Take a Hint, Dani Brown (The Brown Sisters #2)(93)

So he held on to her, and hoped she’d understand what it meant. He was speaking her language, the silent one he’d always worried might be in his head, the one made up of touches and looks. It’s okay. It’s always okay, when it’s you and me.

She smiled a little, slow and trembling, like she heard him loud and clear. “Now that I’ve realized all this, I’m planning to . . . you know, work on it. Take a page out of your book, and know myself a little better. Because I deserve it, but also because of you, Zaf. I don’t ever want to hurt you to protect myself. I want to be brave.”

“You are,” he told her. “You are.”

“And you’re worth it.” She kissed him again, slower, deeper, and he let everything he felt for her overflow, because all of a sudden, he didn’t have the words to express it. So sipping at her lower lip became I missed you, and easing her mouth open meant I adore you, and the touch of his tongue against hers meant You’re mine.

Then he pulled back and said it, just said it. “I missed you. I adore you. You’re mine.” Wait. He hesitated. “But I don’t know what you want, what you’re really asking for. And I promised myself I’d always be clear on that. Dan—”

“I want you. In every way I can have you. And I trust you to have me, too,” she said softly.

He felt dizzy. “Even though I hit you with the love thing like it was a brick?”

“Yes, despite that.” She laughed, and he felt the puff of her amusement against his lips because he still hadn’t moved away. Couldn’t. Although, he was getting a crick in his neck, bending down for her like this, so he let go long enough to pick her up. Just like he had the first time: princess style. Since she was his princess and all.

“Zaf,” she spluttered. “We’ve talked about this.”

“You should really expect it at all times. Kiss me again.”

She didn’t hesitate.



When she’d orchestrated this scene, Dani had entertained modest hopes. In her wildest dreams, she’d imagined Zaf deigning to hear her out, then returning to his desk and letting her ply him with coffee and chocolate until his feelings toward her slowly thawed.

Instead, he was kissing her with unreserved joy into a breathless, horny heap, and all she’d done was make a verbal declaration. Dani made a mental note: Zafir likes verbal declarations.

She had decided, these last few days, to study everything Zaf liked and do her very best to give it to him.

After one last, lingering kiss, he pulled away slightly and asked, “What’s with the flowers?”

Dani’s heart was in danger of flying out of her chest, which made concentrating on explanations quite difficult, but she managed anyway. “White and red carnations—it means love. I was being romantic. You know, like in the books.”

He grinned wide. “The books?”

“I . . . may or may not have read a few romance novels in order to research how I might win you back.”

“You did what?” he choked out. Then his shock dissolved into laughter. “Ah, but of course you did. Danika fucking Brown.”

He made her name sound like a blessing.

Then, suddenly, he sobered, studying her face with a frown.

“What?” she asked, trying not to panic. If she’d gotten something wrong, he wouldn’t throw it back in her face—she knew that now. He never had, and that wouldn’t change just because she’d decided to call this connection romantic instead of convenient. So she willed her pounding heart to slow . . . and it did.

“I just—it’s not that I don’t appreciate the grand gesture,” he said, “because, trust me, Dan, I really fucking do.”

She exhaled a sigh of relief. “Well, thank goddess for that.”

“But I know you don’t enjoy things like this. And I hope you didn’t feel like you had to do something that wasn’t . . . that wasn’t you. Because I meant what I said the other day, even if I said it at the wrong time. I don’t want you to change, Danika. I just want you to be mine.”

Dani was really starting to see the benefits of this romance shit, because at those words, her conservative little heart kicked off its shoes and started to dance. “Well,” she said, fighting a grin, “that’s quite wonderful to hear. In fact, feel free to repeat it whenever.”

He brushed his nose over hers. “As many times as you want,” he said softly, and the promise washed over her like warm water.

“But no,” she went on, “the flowers haven’t triggered some sort of existential crisis in me, if that’s what you’re worried about. Actually, I’ve decided this sort of thing might suit me. Perhaps I find it a little difficult to describe how I feel about you—but if I can do something like this to show you . . . well. I don’t mind that.” Actually, she loved it. Loved the smile she’d put on his face, loved the happiness radiating from him even now. He was like the sun, but twice as vital to her existence. She was certain of that.

“All right,” he said softly. “All right.” Then he sank onto the puddle of petals at their feet, and she curled up in his lap and held him tight, as if he might disappear.

Lord, how she prayed he’d never disappear.

A slight breeze rustled her skirt, and his calloused thumb swept over her bare forearm in that slow, lazy arc she’d missed so fucking much. “I know this isn’t going to be easy,” she whispered. “But I want to try. I want to try with you, and not give up this time.”